


After

by Grundy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Relationships - Freeform, First Age, House of Finwë - Freeform, Implied Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Lake Mithrim, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: Fingon can't sleep, even though he should. Aegnor looks out for his cousins.





	After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotrfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrfan/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "how about something with Aegnor or Angrod? Aegnor had a close friendship with Fingon and Angrod was the first of the Exiles to actually enter Doriath (and later exchanged harsh words with Thingol as I recall). A scene of Aegnor and Fingon after their arrival in Beleriand, perhaps after Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros?"
> 
> May or may not wind up with another chapter or two later.

Findekano was exhausted, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to sleep. He could hold out another few hours. Just to be sure that no one disturbed Maitimo.

And maybe also to have a few quiet moments to himself to think.

Going after Maitimo hadn’t been a product of rational thought any more than everything he’s done since they more or less fell off the back of Manwë’s eagle. If he’s honest, he can’t say he noticed much outside of how Maitimo seemed to be slipping away, the life leaving him as surely as the blood seeping out despite the inexpertly tied tourniquet.

He also didn’t quite trust that despite all the healers’ efforts, despite his father’s tacit approval, despite several people not his sister or his father telling him he has done a good thing, others in the camp might disagree that Maitimo’s continued survival was a positive for the Noldor. (He’s got a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that Turvo is one of them.)

Maitimo looked so terribly vulnerable like this, laid out on a camp bed and swathed all over in bandages. What skin showed was so pale he might have been one of the dead from the Ice, and Findekano has checked more than once to be sure he still drew breath. The hair that had once earned him the epessë Russandol is gone, what little had been left to him was swiftly shaved off by the healers to let them better assess the damage to his head.

Findekano couldn’t leave him alone. Not like this. No matter how tired he was. He could keep his eyes open just a few hours longer.

He perked up, instantly alert, at the sound of someone slipping quietly into the tent behind him.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake Maitimo, but with a hint of warning.

“It’s only me,” came an equally quiet answer.

“Aiko, you idiot, you should be sleeping,” he muttered as his younger cousin drew even with him.

Aikanaro showed no sign of wanting to advance any farther.

“So should you,” he replied levelly. “In fact, I thought you would be. I was trying not to disturb either of you.”

Findekano nodded, accepting both the gentle rebuke and the not quite apology.

“You’re no good to him so exhausted you don’t even recognize your close kin,” Aiko added, with an unexpected hint of sternness.

“Did you come to stand guard?” Findekano asked, suddenly feeling like sleep might not be such a bad thing.

“No,” Aiko said. “Though I can if you think it necessary.”

“Why did you come, then?” Findekano demanded truculently, aware even as he did that his irritability was a product of stress and exhaustion.

“I just wanted to see him,” Aiko replied softly. “You know how tales grow in the telling, and some of what is going around the camp is truly lurid. I needed to know.”

Findekano slumped further down into his chair with a nod. Aiko wouldn’t be the only one – just the most considerate. Ingo would do the correct thing and wait until morning at least, if not longer. Ango probably needed time for his temper to cool. He had not approved the risk Findekano took upon himself, for Ango had no more forgotten the past than Turvo – though in his case it was Alqualondë and Artë, not the Ice, he blamed his cousins for. Irissë hadn’t been permitted to visit yet, for their father wasn’t sure she wouldn’t go to pieces at the sight. Artë he’s not sure about, whether she’ll come alone at a time of her own choosing, or if she’ll wait and be moral support for Irissë.

Just the thought of facing all of them and their reactions is enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“Sleep, Finno,” Aiko suggested. “You’ve been awake for how long now? Days?”

“I don’t remember,” Findekano muttered. “It wasn’t important.”

“Fine,” Aiko shrugged. “It’s not important. But he’s sleeping now, and the healers told you he’s not going to die, did they not?”

Findekano nodded. He wasn’t sure he believed them, but they had said it.

“So you should sleep. He’ll need you when he wakes, and you’ll be no good to him like this.”

Findekano’s shoulders sagged.

“Damn you, Aiko, why do you have to be right all the time?” he growled.

Aiko grinned.

“It’s a habit,” he said brightly.

“Fine, you win, I’m sleeping,” Findekano grumbled, doing his best to find a comfortable position on the hard wooden chair.

“Finno,” Aiko said reprovingly.

“What now? I’m trying to sleep,” Findekano complained. “As instructed!”

“There’s a cot just over there, which I have to believe is meant for you. It’s close enough you can’t possibly miss if anything should happen, but far enough away that you won’t hurt yourself if your sleep is unquiet.”

Aiko gave him a bland look, but Findekano suspected he’d hear about this piece of blinkered stupidity later, when he had slept, and eaten, and Aiko no longer felt he needed to be coddled.

“I’m not coddling you, I’m looking after you. There’s a difference,” Aiko sniffed. “Come on.”

Findekano found himself being hauled to his feet and supported the few rangar from the chair to the cot.

“No fair osanwë,” he protested crankily as Aiko deposited him on the cot and started pulling on his bootlaces as if he were a child too small to deal with his own footwear. “I can do that!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Aiko said.

Findekano couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to see him to know Aiko was holding back laughter.

“Sleep, Finno. I’ll stand guard.”

Findekano was going to argue with him about it. Later. After sleep…


End file.
